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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27918511">A Little Snow Magic</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/joss80/pseuds/joss80'>joss80</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Sherlock (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Affection, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Snow, Snowball Fight</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 19:49:03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,030</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27918511</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/joss80/pseuds/joss80</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Snowballs and stealth: one is Sherlock, one is John, and the end result is what I like to call "Deductions on ice."<br/>For the prompt: Snowballs, snowmen, and/or snow forts</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Sherlock Holmes &amp; John Watson, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>56</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>2020 Advent Collection Johnlock Style</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>A Little Snow Magic</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It happens quickly.</p><p>One minute, John and Sherlock are walking along the snow-covered pathway in a dazzling white Regent’s Park, on the way back from a client in Primrose Hill. The next, Sherlock is nowhere in sight and John finds himself talking to air.</p><p>An elderly gentleman walking in the other direction gives John a curious look as he stops talking and then stops walking.</p><p>“Sherlock?” he asks, spinning slowly on one leg as he surveys the stark surroundings.</p><p>It hits him then, square in the back, and John ducks behind a nearby bench instinctively at the assault. Three more snowballs rain down towards him in quick succession. </p><p>He spots a swish of Sherlock’s dark coat, then, behind a large tree, and military tactics start playing through John’s head as he plots. His pretentious and ballsy git of a flatmate’s days are numbered.</p><p>John zigzags from tree to tree, dodging the occasional snowball from Sherlock and not bothering with any of his own. They’re a distraction that he doesn’t need right now. The goal is not too far in front of him, and his focus is on that and not on trying to maybe, <i>maybe</i> hit the tail end of Sherlock’s coat.</p><p>He doesn’t want the tail end of Sherlock’s coat. </p><p>He wants Sherlock’s face… full of snow.</p><p>He feints left, then darts right as Sherlock throws a snowball to where John would have been  and ducks back behind the tree. John manages to round the other side of the tree and, in a surprise attack of his own, pushes Sherlock over with his momentum and pins the man face-down in the snow. He can hear Sherlock spluttering beneath him, and is about to let up the pressure when he finds himself flipped over expertly and manhandled onto his back. Suddenly, Sherlock is straddling him and grinning like a mad thing. His hair is mussed and covered in snow, and he’s breathless.</p><p>
  <i>It’s breathtaking.</i>
</p><p>The realization hits John like a punch to the gut, and <i>of course</i> Sherlock notices that his eyes dilate and that the heart rate beneath his hands speeds up. The man’s eyes narrow, curious, and then he lets out a soft “Oh” from his parted lips.</p><p>John happens to be staring at said lips when it happens, and unconsciously runs his tongue over his own in response. A second later he realizes that it only adds to the deduction Sherlock is making above him at rapid-fire rate, and it’s too late.</p><p>It’s too late for take-backs, for denials and deflections. It’s too late to distract with a handful of snow down the man’s jacket. It’s too late to reject the desires of his own heart any longer.</p><p>Sherlock grabs hold of the lapels of John’s winter coat, lurches awkwardly downwards, and pauses with his mouth scant millimetres from John’s.</p><p>“Yes?” he asks hesitantly.</p><p>John, mercifully, doesn’t have to think about the answer.</p><p>“Yes,” he breathes out in a sigh of relief.</p><p>Sherlock’s lips are on his a moment later, pressing down in a light and chaste manner experimentally. John’s not having it - he needs more. He does lift a snow-covered glove then, but only to urge the top of Sherlock’s mop of curls closer to him. Their lips part with the pressure, and Sherlock gasps as John’s nips at his lower lip.</p><p>“John -”</p><p>The soft yet desperate sounds of his name turns something inside John into molten lava while simultaneously bringing everything else into stark bright <i>feeling</i>.</p><p>“God, Sherlock.”</p><p>He tugs on Sherlock’s hair again, bringing their mouths back together, and this time there is no hesitation. There’s only touch, taste and, oh fuck that’s Sherlock’s tongue sneaking in to tangle with his own. It seems so unreal - that this longed-for eventuality is actually happening, that Sherlock is initiating and engaging and <i>oh god and how</i> reciprocating and…</p><p>… and wanting this too. Wanting it just as much as he does.</p><p>Something in John’s heart breaks just a little in disbelief at that. It has seemed impossible for so long, for so many, many years. And yet, here they are.</p><p>
  <i>They.</i>
</p><p>John smiles into the kiss even as a tear trails out the corner of his eye and down across his cheek.</p><p>Sherlock, who has apparently turned all his intuitive energy to focus on John, pulls back ever-so-slightly and takes in his appearance. Then he smiles too, almost shyly, and nuzzles their noses together.</p><p>“I’ve never been quite so aware of my heart,” Sherlock admits, sotto voce. “It feels like it’s about to burst out of my chest. Is this normal?”</p><p>And John laughs then, a release of pent-up years of <i>everything</i> that finally, finally doesn’t matter anymore. He manages to wrangle his left glove off, and raises a cool hand to cup Sherlock’s cheek. </p><p>“Yes, love. This is your transport catching up with your brain.”</p><p>And Sherlock places his hand carefully over John’s heart again.</p><p>“It’s terribly distracting.” He sounds pouty, but there’s a slight smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth.</p><p>John raises his eyebrows at that.</p><p>“I can definitely think of a better place to be distracted,” he offers. “Somewhere a little warmer, perhaps?”</p><p>Sherlock cocks his head for a few seconds, processing the information. He’s really good at it when it pertains to other people, but John can see him struggling with it now that it’s about himself.</p><p>Then, “Oh,” said again in as many minutes. Sherlock blinks hard, takes in a deep breath, and raises his own eyebrows at John.</p><p>“What do you think?” John asks, and he suddenly feels the need to reassure Sherlock as his own nerves get going. “Just tea, a blanket, more of this?” he suggests, and gestures between them. Nothing too fast, nothing too rushed… just the warmth of their home and their bodies next to each other and those lips against his once more, and minus the snow that’s shifted up under his jacket and into his socks.</p><p>Where things go from there… well, they’ll figure that out together.</p><p>“I think,” Sherlock says, with a tentative grin this time, “That we might need to ask Mrs Hudson to keep Rosie for a little while longer.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I love Regent's Park. I've taken photos of the many benches there that I imagine Sherlock and John sitting on, and of the trees whose shade I imagine them lounging under. It seemed only fitting to have them experience the magic of winter there too.</p><p>Also, my working title for this fic was "Oh Balls" :)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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